The Sentry At His Post
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Nardole has one of the worst jobs in the galaxy ... but he's not about to quit. Spoilers for 10. 6, "Extremis".


The Sentry At His Post

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Doctor Who

Copyright: BBC

"So, the Doctor tells me you're a cyborg he brought back from the dead."

The voice from inside the Vault was light, conversational, almost friendly. Not a good sign. Nardole looked down at his hands, which were curling into fists. If he were still made of flesh and blood, his palms would have been sweating.

"What did it feel like to die, hmm? Did it hurt? I'm curious, for the sake of science. How long does it take to realize you have more in common with a toaster than with your own species?"

 _Don't engage,_ the Doctor had told him. _Don't let her provoke you. She likes to do that with people, it's a hobby of sorts. Best if you say nothing._

That was one order he often found it difficult to obey.

"How typical of the Doctor, to bring someone back to life he doesn't even care about. A clumsy, cowardly servant of all people. Just so he wouldn't drive himself insane after that frizzy-haired grave robber died. Or was she an archeologist? Same thing."

Anger crackled along Nardole's spine like the electricity that kept him alive, but he clenched his teeth and said nothing. The last thing he needed was to let her know which buttons to push.

"But he should get tired of you soon enough. He always does. He's already quite rude to you, did you notice? Casting you aside in favor of that human girl, taking her on trips … oh yes, don't think I haven't noticed. He obviously doesn't give a rat's arse about your opinion. Or your safety, for that matter. Imagine, what if I got out?"

Her mocking laughter grated like nails on a chalkboard.

"I've had a long time," she continued cheerfully, "To think about how I should destroy this planet when I get out. Should I turn the humans into copies of me? Create a paradox and have them killed by their own descendants? Put the Doctor in a cage and make him watch? Oh no, wait. I've already done those. I hate repeats. It'll have to be something new."

Her voice sounded very close behind him, as if she were just on the other side of the metal doors.

"Don't worry, little tin man," she crooned. "I'll get you early in the game. You won't suffer long. You're not that important."

Nardole allowed himself a twisted smile. _If you think that bothers me …_

"Oh no. It's that mongrel he calls his wife who will be sorry. No one kills the Doctor but me. I'll make her wish she'd never met him."

A resounding thump on the back of the doors, as if Missy had punched them, made Nardole stumble back. A sound of rage and fear burst out of him before he could stop it.

"Did I just make you whimper? How delightful. Are you going to wet your pants next?"

" _You are never getting out!"_ Nardole couldn't keep his voice from shaking, but he could make himself heard all along the basement. "Do you hear me? You can witter on all you like, but you'll never change my mind – or the Doctor's. He took an oath. He swore he'd keep the universe safe from you. And so did I!"

She didn't stop, of course. She talked herself hoarse, saying things that would fester inside him for days and weeks, and he must have checked his watch a million times waiting for the Doctor to finally take over.

She had a point, damn her. Nardole wasn't used to guarding her for such long stretches of time, precisely because the Doctor kept running off with Bill Potts. Nardole had nothing against the human girl as such – she was quite sweet, actually, and her practicality was refreshing – but as a distraction, he resented her bitterly. Why couldn't she just keep studying with the Doctor in his office and leave the time traveling alone?

By the time the Doctor did arrive – dressed in medieval Chinese attire, swinging a bag of takeaway dim sum, and _smiling_ – Nardole couldn't muster the energy to scold him. He rolled his eyes and left the room.

Behind his back, the Doctor was telling Missy all about his latest trip, with a casual warmth in his voice, as if she were a pet or younger sister. Missy laughed.

Nardole found those moments the most terrifying of all.

He made his way to the only place that could calm him down: the Doctor's office, with the TARDIS parked inside. He sat down at the desk, picked up the photograph of River Song, and stared at it for a long time.

Her face was as familiar to him as his own. Unlike an organic being's, his cyborg memories remained perfect unless he deleted them. He knew every wrinkle around her blue eyes, every line of her strong nose and generous mouth, and every gravity-defying curl of hair.

He was not in love with her, or any such nonsense – one might as well fall in love with a thunderstorm – but he had served her all his adult life, and by losing her, he had lost a substantial part of himself. Her husband, the Doctor, was his last remaining link to her.

"My Queen," he murmured. "Please help me."

 _Pull yourself together,_ he imagined her saying, with one of her fierce looks. _You served at the court of King Hydroflax, remember? You can get through this._

"Hydroflax preferred to shoot first and talk later. He was a picnic compared to this."

 _But Missy is wrong, you know. Wrong about the Doctor, and especially about you. You're important to him … for the same reason he's important to you._

"Because of you, ma'am."

Because of twenty-four happy years on Darillium. Because of that moment waking up in a laboratory, with River and the Doctor on either side of him, smiling like proud parents. Because River had held his hand when he had a nervous breakdown after learning he was now almost immortal, and the Doctor had told wild stories to distract him, and neither of them had sneered at him for his weakness even though they were the strongest people he knew. Because of the haunting silence in the TARDIS after she left.

Because her last command had been to take care of the Doctor.

 _Exactly. I am quite memorable, after all._ She'd tip him a wink, or toss her hair. He smiled.

"I wish you were here." He patted the picture frame gently with one hand.

 _Oh Nardole, believe me, so do I._


End file.
